


The Awakening

by miss_baconator



Series: Aurea Filia Infernum [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Implied Torture, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Monster - Freeform, angsty, maybe start of a series, original - Freeform, prophet - Freeform, supernatural universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:41:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7140626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_baconator/pseuds/miss_baconator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angels and demons. Light and dark. Order and chaos. From their creation, they were built to oppose one another, with humanity caught in the crossfire of choice.</p>
<p>But what happens when grace meets smoke in its rawest form? And the result is granted freedom of will?<br/>The likes of it have not been seen in millennia.</p>
<p>And now one has awoken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Awakening

Kushiel stood before his chained victims, thoughtfully rubbing his hands encased in black leather gloves. God knew what time it was – it seemed eons since Caroline and her compatriots had been snapped here by the angels that had captured them. – wherever “here” was. 

Angels, particularly seraphims such as Kushiel, could manipulate reality, bending the appearance of the world at will. They were probably in a nondescript box in some long-abandoned warehouse, but Kushiel, with his dramatic flair, had opted to style it in the form of a medieval dungeon. Rough, dark stone blocks comprised the walls and floors; the only light came from sconces holding torches burning red-orange, too bright to be a natural fire. Lester, as the ringleader, was affixed to the far wall by manacles clamped around his wrists and ankles, stretching him into a disturbing X shape. Caroline, Dora, and Ann were chained to the irons staked into the floor. In contrast to the ancient atmosphere, the angel guards wore neat, clean suits in black and grey.Kushiel, though, had added the gloves and a wool overcoat, as if he were a police interrogator from the 1940’s. He stalked self-importantly before Lester and his crew. Caroline could tell he relished the moment, the building anxiety and pain overrunning his captives before he began to break them open.

“I wondered,” Kushiel suddenly said, “ what would be the best way to begin our little…conversation here. Whom to make bleed, whom to…reach into to get what I need. I know you have recovered the Sceptre of Raphael, and I’m sure you have all vowed to each other not to impart that precious information to anyone, to protect it with your life. So, I concluded, why not bring you to part permanently with what you hold most dear? Remove the spirit, remove the source…and you have very little reason left not to give us what we want. But whom to begin with…” He prowled between the captives with the unmistakable attitude of a predator,  before pausing before Ann.

“Ah, Ann, dear young Ann…your life was normal before these fools entered it. Excellent student, good hopes for college, a career helping sick puppies and kittens, a family with your sweetheart.” Caroline winced at those words. “And what have these bastards done?” He lifted her chin with one leather clad hand, but Ann, to her credit, jerked away. “They barge through your home, demanding aid and never returning it, and when the hellish hosts, hot on their heels, began seeking you as fresh prey, well…you had no choice but to leave that precious dream of yours behind just to save yourself…and those you love.” Kushiel snapped his fingers, and an angel appeared beside him, with a young, frightened girl in his arms. She was cut and bruised, no more than nine.

“Ann? Annie?” she asked tremulously.

Ann looked into Kushiel’s eyes with anger which was almost instantly replaced with fear. “What is she d-d-doing here? She has done n-n-no-nothing wrong!”

“Annie, what’s going on? I’m scared, I’m hurt, Annie…”

“It’s all right, Sophie, the-the-they aren’t going to hurt you – j-ju-just take her home, I’ll give you wh-wha-whatever you want, just let her g-go!”

“Ah, there’s the rub,” responded Kushiel, taking Sophie, Ann’s sister, by the shoulders. “You lack just what I want. You don’t know all the secrets this little gang has been acquiring. But he…”  he said, turning maliciously toward Lester. “He does. So, you, broken prophet,” 

“Prophet?” Caroline questioned, interrupting Kushiel in mid-sentence.

“The choice is yours,” the seraph continued, pretending that he didn’t hear Caroline’s question. “Protect your life’s work, the secrets you have killed at random to keep, the dark truths that have destroyed your life…or save the girls, not one, but two innocent people you have willfully put in the line of fire for your precious hunt. But, if I were you, I’d choose quickly,” Kushiel snarled, snapping out his angel blade and pressing it to the child’s throat, “or you may have no choice left.”

“Sophie!” Ann cried yanking against her chains, struggling to get to her feet before another angel struck her, knocking her to the floor. She laid there, moaning and weeping, “Lester, please…”

Lester finally raised his head, face swollen and puffy from the beating he’d taken. One eye was black with bruising, but the other one wasn’t. Caroline could see the struggle slamming through his brain when she locked her stare with his. The guilt over the murders, the loyalty to his cause, and poor Ann, bleeding on the floor, family, broken and in danger, because of the one misstep he took. One misstep of many that had led people into harm and death over many remorseless years; one calculated decision of many, many more that were made precisely to cause pain.  It seemed like a long moment, that battle, balancing years of the unforgivable against one slim moment of redemption, but before a couple of seconds had passed, Lester’s head dropped. “Very well. Let the girls go. I will tell you what I know.”

“Lester, don’t!” Dora cried, “Not after all we’ve do-”

“Let them go,” Lester repeated, gaze still on the floor, but voice no less firm.

Kushiel smiled in satisfaction and released Sophie’s shoulder. Ann gave a sob of relief as she pushed herself upright, lifting her arms to embrace her sister as she ran from the angel. They all seemed frozen, Lester in resigned defeat, Dora in righteous, jealous fury, and Sophie, afraid and still alive…

Until Kushiel rammed his angel blade into Sophie’s back, directly into her heart. She staggered to a halt, looking at the silvery blade emerging from her chest and the first red spots appearing on her dress. She stumbled toward Ann, her arms outstretched, face halfway between hope and horror, and fell, crumbling to the floor.

Caroline registered a handful of images as the blade entered the girl’s body– Dora’s anger, Lester’s betrayed shock, Kushiel’s wicked, powerful smirk. But all  these reactions paled in comparison to Ann’s face – the expression of horror and fear as she began to scream. And then – Caroline could almost pinpoint when – the fear left her face, replaced by anger. Not just anger – pure hatred. Caroline had never seen the quiet bookish girl that furious, yet now her face was livid with enough fury to overpower nations – that kind of powerful anger that makes anything with common sense turn and hide. In that moment, Ann  _ snapped. _

Her scream of sorrow brought down the walls of the dungeon almost at once, crumbling into smoke to reveal their true location – a storage warehouse. The fluorescent lights above exploded, glass rained, and the angels fell to their knees as a wave of violet smoke tumbled over the scene – a luminous purple, as if demon smoke was infused with grace. Guards and prisoners cowered as one. An eon passed.

And then it was over. The angels had retreated across the warehouse, while Caroline, Lester, and Dora lay near their broken manacles.

And there crouched Ann, cradling Sophie’s body close to her breast. Her soft sobs echoed over the room as she rocked the body for another age, but no one dared to move. At long last, Ann gently laid the corpse of her sister upon the floor, angel blade removed and cast aside. Then she crossed the girl’s hands over the bloody wound and softly closed her eyelids. She knelt, as if in mourning vigil, by her side.

As if replying to Ann’s grief, thunder rolled over the warehouse; the angels glanced upwards nervously and a brave one or two dared to summon their blades. Caroline looked back from the murmuring host to Ann and gasped. Her wounds, the manacle burns, the cuts and scars that had come to cover her body,  _ healed _ . Her tattered clothes, scarred with burns that she didn’t remember seeing before, seemed almost to ripple, turning into a simple black dress. From across the room, Caroline heard Kushiel murmur, “No. They are dead, they sleep, they do not exist!”

Ann breathed in deeply. As she exhaled, she began to glow, to emanate that smoky violet light. She rose, as if weightless, to her feet. The thunder gave another almighty crash and, as the lightning illuminated the room through the shattered windows, great shadowy wings unfurled across the wall behind her. The angels cried out and fell to their knees; even Kushiel pressed backwards, feebly holding his angel blade at a defensive angle.

Ann finally lifted her head and opened her eyes. They were pure black.

Kushiel whispered, almost whimpered, “ _ Aurea filia Infernum.” _

Caroline murmured in translation, “Dawn Born of Hell.”

Ann almost smiled, black eyes glinting with pleasure. “You have named me well.” She held out her hand and a dark sword materialized into it. “But I doubt that any of you shall enjoy the satisfaction for long.”

When Caroline opened her eyes again, the angels were nothing more than shadows with wings against the floor and walls. Ann stalked Dora as she backed against the walls. “You would rather have had my dear sister dead than give him up.”

“No, of course not, I didn’t want anyone dead-”

“You lie and lie and yet – we both know the truth. And how it ends.” Ann plunged her sword into Dora’s chest, and Dora dissolved into smoke, a smoldering imprint upon the wall.

Ann turned to Lester and Caroline pressed her head more firmly into the ground, feigning unconsciousness.

“You tried to save her.”

“I did.”

“And yet she died.”

“I know. And I am sorry.”

“You did try.”

“But?”

“But had you never met me in the first place, she would never have come here.”

“I know.”

“So you know what I must do.”

“And I begrudge you nothing. It’s past time I pay for what I have done. The Scepter’s secrets will die with me.”

“That is good. You have caused a lot of pain and sorrow, but you have chosen to make it better. You will always have my hatred, my pity, and my respect, Saul.”

Caroline heard the sword pass through the air and remove her captain’s head. She heard Ann’s footsteps approach and held her breath; she felt the warm rush of air as Ann pressed her lips to her ear: “Tell them, O Lover of Mine, that the angels have awoken the Aurea filia Infernum. Tell them she will stop at nothing to see them pay. And tell them, I will not be the only one for long. Heaven will burn and Hell will freeze when we are done with them. Pray that someone, anyone, survives.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been toying with the idea of an angel-demon child for a while - I've even come up with a backstory! I don't have a full story arc in mind just yet, but if I get some good feedback, I might expand it into a full-on fic. I'd bring in other characters from the Supernatural universe...but I wanted to start with something all my own that still played by those rules.


End file.
